Lily
by shoutintotheoblivion
Summary: The spaces between his fingers were Lily.


**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. As you may have guessed. _(also: "A different take on why Lily and James are meant to be." is actually **Kira Shae's** who wrote it in her review, because I was not awesome enough to think of that description on my own)_

* * *

He sleeps next to her. Calm and silent, except for the deep breaths. His chest, naked, rises and falls in a steady rhythm and she can see his eyes moving under his closed eyelids as the silvery moonlight hits his face. It's when he's most beautiful and most honest. And she hates it so much – the beauty and the honesty on his face; on his lips. The lips that kissed hers not so long ago, that trailed over her body. The lips that lied and lied and lied. Every single day, he lied. She knew, a girl always knows, but it was much easier to pretend; never let him know that you are aware of something he doesn't even realize.

She watches him refusing the idea, never admitting it to himself. She watches him as he struggles daily to keep his eyes on her when _she_ is in the same room. Those lips—those full lips that are so falsely hers—stretch in a smile directed towards her, but it's never for her. She doesn't deserve that smile, no. It's the one he keeps for _her_, saves it until _she's_ present as well. A while ago she was convinced he was doing it on purpose, but then she realized his struggle. Once she noticed it, she could so easily pick up on the way his head would twitch in the other direction, or that fleeting moment when his eyes would leave her face. She knew where they landed, for they always reached their goal, without a fault.

_A girl always knows._

That's why she watches him sleep, peaceful and unaware. He doesn't know. He doesn't understand. He has no idea that she knows, too. Tonight was the same. Sneaking up to his dormitory and into his bed; undressing.

Fiery kisses—that was her. Distant ones—that's him.

But he tries so hard, she feels it. So much effort put into the passion he shows, such false passion it is. She never cries when she's in his bed. Never let him know, or he'll understand. He will leave, if he knows. If she lets him know, then it will all be much too clear for him. And she doesn't want to lose him; not yet. Just a few more nights, that's all. Because _the girl_ is beautiful, the one he lies about. Her face is constantly in the back of her mind, reminding her that she'll never be _her_. She will never mean to him as much as the girl does and it used to hurt, it did. It's not as bad anymore. She got used to it. _You can get used to anything_, she says. Deep down, she is aware it's all a lie.

She cries when she's alone.

The girl's name falls from his lips, the soft whisper much too loud in the deafening silence. It rolls off the tip of his tongue once, then twice… third time as well. He's dreaming about _her_, that's for sure. His mind is somewhere where she can't reach him, a place where only the girl is present. She'll never be allowed there, she'll never know the way there.

He shifts, she moves, the name is whispered again.

She won't cry.

"Lily," again.

She cries despite herself. She hates herself for being so weak. She was so naïve. A foolish girl to think that she could compare, that she could ever come close. That she could, somehow, be a worthy replacement. Naïve and foolish. Lying on her back she wipes away the two stray tears. There is a comforting thought, it always comes. Lily Evans is an even bigger fool than she is. It's so easy to believe and much too easy to see. Lily Evans likes the boy sleeping next to her, she knows it, but she'll never tell him. Lily Evans likes the boy who has a smile for her, _the boy_. And Lily Evans is upset because she isn't the one lying in his bed, or the one kissing those deceitful, denying lips. And the red haired girl has no idea—she almost smiles as her eyes land on the sleeping boy—she has no idea that he was never hers; that he was always, only Lily's.

"Lily," she bites her lip.

He's hers for now, James is.

She is observant. She has never missed the searching green eyes when the red haired girl would enter a room. Never missed the suppressed smile and the disappointed green eyes once she noticed him—her James—but realized he wasn't alone. She made sure of it, James was never alone. Never alone, because then it could happen. He could see _her_ looking at him and it would be over so fast, it would be so easy for Lily to take him away. She didn't want to lose him; she couldn't allow it, not yet.

"Lily," the name dies on his lips, travelling through silence.

Red hair, green eyes, flawless skin and long legs. Lily Evans – _the thought_. The only thought James Potter always had. The one not even James knew about. She was always there, always present, each hour of each day. All the time. He would kiss her and she could _feel_ her name on his lips. And then she could taste that name on his tongue. She could sense it as his hands ran over her body—_Lily, Lily, Lily_… Oh, how she despised the name.

Everything was Lily, even his ragged breaths and the way his fingers were intertwined with hers as they walked the hallways. The spaces between his fingers _were_ Lily. They were meant specifically for Lily and—no matter how hard she tried—she couldn't shake the feeling of not belonging there. She couldn't erase the sensation of her hand not quite fitting with his. It was Lily.

He doesn't say her name anymore, but she knows it's there. He breathes it from time to time as she lays awake.

One day Lily Evans will take him and they will fit.

One day they'll walk the school hallways and their hands will be intertwined and the small spaces she can feel when he holds her hand won't be there. She would avoid looking at them because it will be painful even then. It's only Lily. It's always _her_, Lily.

One day they will kiss and he won't have to lie, not to her. His lips would be honest and true, and he would kiss her earnestly, eagerly. Because he would be kissing _her_; his Lily.

Eventually, one day, his hands would trail over her body, that awful word—_Lily_—hanging on his fingertips. But he would never have to force passion again; he would never have to so shamelessly work to make both lovers believe a lie.

And his ragged breaths would be Lily. And he'd say her name... Lily.

She bites her lip, realizing it – he never said her name when they were together.

One day James would cease being barely hers and he would belong to his Lily.

And one day is always.

Always is every night.

James has always belonged to Lily. She was merely a fool to ignore the first time that the name fell from his lips and pierced the silence, his face as innocent and honest as it was all the following times.

Lily would always be James'.

* * *

_**A/N:**__ What do you think? I don't know. It feels confusing, but I intended it to be. I was rather bored and my friend sent me a link to Jolene and I was listening to it and this is what came out of the whole thing. Please let me know what you think?_

_Maja._


End file.
